Never Again Read online

  Levi put two pieces of perfectly fried eggplant on her plate and spooned some marinara on it. As he served himself as well, he glared at her. She was one of the most frustrating people he’d ever met. “It would be nice,” he said.

  She poured herself a glass of Mondavi white zinfandel and poured him a glass of Perrier. “So? Are you in? Or am I going by myself?”

  They clinked glasses. “When are we supposed to head over there?” he asked.

  Lucy smiled, and for a second he forgot that she was a former mobster who was trying to turn over a new leaf. Instead he saw an attractive woman who was intelligent, assertive, and very idiosyncratic. He was never able to guess what was going to come out of her mouth next, and it was exhausting.

  “Before sundown. I guess we should get there at about five-thirty.”

  Levi took a bite of the salad. It needed a sprinkle of salt.

  Lucy nibbled at her own salad and frowned. “I forgot the salt.” She pushed back from the table, got the salt shaker from the kitchen, and sprinkled salt on her salad as well as his. “Try it now, it’ll be better. Oh, and you’ll need to wear your suit.”

  He shook his head and tried to keep the smile from reaching his face. “Yes, ma’am.” He glanced at the tight-fitting white floral dress she was wearing. It hugged her slender curves, and didn’t exactly seem appropriate for a dinner event full of religious people. “And what are you going to wear?”

  “We’ll go shopping in the morning. I know just the outfit. I’ve been eyeing it at Bergdorf’s.”

  ###

  Paulie opened the rear passenger door to the Lincoln Town Car and both Levi and Lucy stepped out.

  Levi shook hands with the huge mobster, who was just a couple inches shy of seven feet tall and built like a bodybuilder. Beside him stood Tom, the mobster who’d ridden shotgun.

  “It’ll probably be a few hours,” Levi said. “You guys can go get dinner or something, I’ll call you when we’re done.”

  Paulie smiled and shook his head. “Not happening.” He pointed at an empty spot on the side of Lincoln Place. “We’ll park there and keep watch on things. The don’s orders.”

  “Okay, I understand. I’ll call when we’re about to finish.” Levi knew better than to argue. Vinnie, the head of the Bianchi family, was aware of the Lucy situation and was taking every precaution possible.

  Levi looked over at Lucy and for the first time took in the details of the outfit she was wearing. She’d said it was a Kay Unger mikado gown, which meant nothing to him, but the long form-fitting dress had an Asian look to his eyes. It was a dark shimmering affair with colored sequin embroidery that reminded him of her dragon tattoo. It had a long slit up the side, revealing hints of her athletic build.

  “You’re going to make some of the rabbis faint with that outfit of yours,” he said.

  “If they are truly godly men, they won’t be looking. And besides, I’ve been eyeing this thing forever, and it finally went on sale. I’m glad you like it.” Lucy wrapped her arm around his and winked. “Let’s go. I’d like to help Rivka with the setup for dinner if she’ll let me.”

  With Paulie and Tom watching, they walked up the steps to the townhome.

  Levi pressed the doorbell, and soon he heard the sound of footsteps. The door opened and an older man with a full white beard greeted them with a curious expression. “Oy vey, Mister Yoder, you haven’t aged a day in what must be twenty years. God has truly blessed you. Do you remember—”

  Levi smiled as he spotted the younger man in the old man in front of him. “Menachem, please call me Levi. Of course I remember you.”

  They hugged and then kissed on both cheeks. Levi motioned to Lucy. “This is my business partner, Lucy.”

  Menachem smiled at Lucy and bowed his head while stepping aside for them to enter. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Lucy! Mister Yoder!” Rivka’s voice echoed in the hallway as she rushed toward the door, a smile on her face. “Gut Shabbes to you both. It’s so good that you came, and just in time.”

  Within moments, Rivka had taken Lucy with her to the kitchen, and Menachem had led Levi to the living room where nearly a dozen men had gathered ahead of dinner.

  Menachem cleared his throat and addressed the men. “This is Levi Yoder. He’s the guest I spoke about earlier.”

  The men introduced themselves, and Levi took a seat on one of the wooden chairs.

  The men were dressed in traditional black Jewish garb, fringes of their prayer shawls peeking out from under their formal jackets. All wore a head covering, which Levi knew was called a kippah.

  Levi patted the top of his head and asked, “Should I be wearing a kippah?”

  Most of the men’s eyes widened, but the oldest of the group chuckled and said, “If you wouldn’t mind wearing a yarmulke, I think that would be very nice.” He fished from his pocket a hand-sized circular head covering with Hebrew letters sewn into it and handed it to Levi.

  “I might be a goy, but I’ve lived in New York long enough to know there are some traditions I should respect.” Levi put the prayer cap on, and the mood lightened as the men began talking about their day.

  Suddenly, what seemed to be an endless stream of kids raced through the room with an older child chasing after them and yelling, “Get cleaned up for Shabbat, we only have fifteen minutes!”

  Menachem pulled his chair up alongside Levi’s, patted him on the back, and whispered, “We’ll talk more after dinner.”

  ###

  The main dining room wasn’t big enough for everyone to be seated, so the tables spanned past the dining room, into the kitchen, and into the next room as well. Levi had been seated beside Zalman, the eldest of the Cohen family, and the one who’d handed him his kippah, who sat at its head. Lucy was at the far end of the table—still in the dining room—smiling as she interacted with the other women, many of whom were helping with the nearly two dozen kids gathered.

  Zalman stood, and all three rooms quickly quieted. “We have guests today who might otherwise be confused by the significance of this day, so it is a mitzvah, a blessing, for us all to help them at least understand why we do what we do.

  “Tonight is the beginning of Shabbat, the seventh day of the week. The prayers that follow will recount how the Almighty rested on the seventh day and sanctified it. We will then have a blessing over the wine and a blessing thanking the Almighty for giving us this day of rest.”

  Zalman lifted a cup of nearly overflowing wine and focused on the sabbath candles flickering on the table. They’d been lit by Rivka earlier. In a deep voice he began to say some prayers.

  “Yom Ha-shi-shi. Va-y'chu-lu Ha-sha-ma-yim v'ha-a-retz, v'chawl^ts'va-am.

  “Va-y'chal e-lo-him ba-yom ha-sh'vi-i, m'lach-to a-sher a-sa

  “Va-yish-bot ba-yom ha-sh'vi-i, mi-kawl^m'lach-to a-sher a-sa.

  “Va-y'va-rech e-lo-him et yom ha-sh'vi-i, va-y'ka-deish o-to ki vo sha-vat mi-kawl^m'lach-to a-sher ba-ra e-lo-him la-a-sot.”

  The man next to Levi showed him a prayer book written in English, and pointed to the translation of what Zalman was saying.

  The sixth day. And the heavens and the earth and all their hosts were completed. And God finished by the Seventh Day His work which He had done, and He rested on the Seventh Day from all His work which He had done. And God blessed the Seventh Day and made it holy, for on it He rested from all His work which God created to function.

  As Zalman’s prayer rang through the home, Levi looked at everyone around the table. They were all mouthing the same words, with their heads slightly bowed.

  They then prayed over the wine, and finally over the bread. And then it was time to eat.

  He glanced at Lucy, and their eyes met. She smiled and gave him a wink.

  There was a wholesome feel to this gathering. It reminded him of his Amish upbringing in some ways. Even though he’d left his Amish community when he was eighteen and had never really looked back, he�
��d also never outright rejected formal religion as a groundwork for beliefs. These people believed in what they practiced, as did his family, and that was something he could relate to, even if he didn’t share in the day-to-day practices of either of them.

  Menachem handed him a piece of the braided egg bread that was traditional for the Sabbath. “I wonder,” he said, “do you like gefilte fish?”

  Levi shrugged. “I don’t know what a gefilte is, but I like fish. I’ll try anything that you put in front of me.”

  Zalman leaned over with an amused expression. “It’s okay if you don’t like it. I’m not a fan either.”

  And that started a heated debate over gefilte fish that led to other amusing discussions that occupied the better part of two hours.

  ###

  After dinner, Rivka led Levi, Lucy, and Menachem up the narrow stairs to a closed door. She pulled a key from a hidden pocket in her dress and unlocked the door. “This is Mendel’s office. It hasn’t been touched since the break-in. Please, have a seat.”

  Lights automatically turned on as they entered the room. Levi had learned during his visit that this was a feature in some Orthodox Jewish households.

  Levi followed Menachem and Lucy into a cramped study filled with a large desk. It was a working office, that was obvious. Two of the walls had built-in shelves crammed with books. Nothing fancy, just lots of books on random topics, including an Encyclopedia Britannica from 1969 that occupying one entire shelf. Many of the books had Hebrew letters on their binders.

  Levi turned to Rivka. “Can you start from the beginning? What exactly did your husband do?”

  She closed the door to the office. “He was a consumer reporter. It was his passion.” She smiled, looking much calmer than she had at the bar. “It was how we met many years ago.”

  “What kind of things did he report on? And where? Was it for TV stations, the newspaper…?”

  “Mostly newspaper, but sometimes he’d be interviewed on television. When he started, he had a column in the local papers.” She blushed and pursed her lips. “You’ll probably think it’s silly, but back then he would investigate kosher restaurants and report any violations or questionable behaviors so that others would be warned. That eventually led to him reporting on international food imports and exports, and that’s when the Intelligencer picked him up.”

  The Intelligencer was a huge newspaper with millions of daily readers. “Is that where he worked most recently?” Levi asked.

  “Yes. And he became agitated about things at work, and I suppose that’s what you want to know about. He told me about some of it. Over the last couple years, he’d noticed how some of his work was being edited to remove names, or it was not being run at all, even though the local editor had given his approval.”

  “Isn’t that pretty normal?” Lucy asked. “From what I understand, there’s usually more stories than there’s space to print, isn’t there?”

  Rivka nodded. “True, but Mendel’s been doing this for over twenty years… I mean… he had been doing it for that long.” She sighed. “And even though it was his job to warn people about problems, he always gave the targets of his stories the benefit of the doubt. It would ruin him professionally if he wrote anything that was inaccurate or misleading.

  “But he confided something to me that he wasn’t yet prepared to put into print. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he ever would be. He was almost convinced that the company he was working for was purposefully trying to deceive its readers. To shape the narrative, if you will.”

  Levi frowned. “I don’t understand. Isn’t that a newspaper’s job? I see outlandish stuff in the papers all the time.”

  “That’s the editorial sections. My husband worked in what people in the trade like to call hard news. It should involve no opinions, just the facts. But Mendel was convinced that the management at the paper wasn’t interested in telling their millions of readers the truth.”

  “Okay,” Levi said. “I understand why that would upset your husband. But do you really think that would be cause for him to be murdered?”

  Menachem cleared his throat. “My brother-in-law was a very righteous man. He felt it was his calling to bring the truth to the people. You need to realize that to him, what the paper was doing was a sin. I also heard plenty from him in the last year about this issue. He made it clear that even though the newspaper never lied, by ensuring certain things were never said in print, they molded the public narrative. It was a sin of omission.”

  Lucy nodded in understanding. “I suppose it would be like talking about how a police officer shot a teenager on the streets, and leaving out the fact that the teenager was aiming a gun at him.”

  “Exactly,” Rivka affirmed. “Anyway, in the days just before Mendel died, he was particularly upset. He wouldn’t talk about it, even to me. And then… and then he was dead.”

  “And you think he was murdered because…?”

  Rivka picked up a manila folder from the desk and handed it to Levi. “That’s the medical examiner’s report. They said he was poisoned, though they labeled the manner of death as undetermined.” She took in a deep shuddering breath. “But later, the manner was changed to suicide based on the testimony of someone who had to be lying.”

  Levi recalled what Lucy had told him about the claim of an affair. He wasn’t going to push that for the moment. He flipped through the folder. It also contained a police report, with some names redacted.

  “You mentioned a break-in,” he said. “Tell me about that.”

  Rivka hid her face and began sobbing. Menachem patted her shoulder, and Lucy moved closer to her and handed her a tissue from a nearby dispenser.

  Her uncle responded for her. “It happened during Mendel’s funeral. Someone broke in and tossed this office, and touched nothing else in the house. Whoever did it had to know we were all gone for the funeral.”

  Levi thought of the ornate silver menorah and all the other valuable items he’d seen downstairs. “What was in here worth taking and ignoring the rest of the house?”

  “We don’t know.” Rivka wiped her face, looking both distraught and embarrassed. “They took all the books off the shelves, emptied his drawers, and the only thing I know of that was missing was his work notebook.”

  “They stole his laptop?”

  “No, a spiral notebook. Mendel preferred writing things longhand. I know it was on his desk, where he always had it. But it was gone.”

  Levi surveyed the office. There was something definitely not right about this. What could possibly be so important in a reporter’s notes that they’d break in to steal them?

  Levi stepped over to the mahogany desk and pulled open one of the drawers. It was full of empty file folders. The notebook had been lying in plain sight on top of the desk, yet the intruder had seemingly gone to the trouble of ransacking the drawers and shelves as well.

  “Do you know what he kept in these drawers?” he asked.

  “Not specifically,” Rivka said. “When we cleaned up, we just put things back where it felt like they belonged.”

  He exchanged a glance with Lucy. They were both almost certainly thinking the same thing. Not just a notebook was missing.

  On top of the desk was a book with Hebrew writing. Levi thumbed through its pages of unintelligible script and stopped when he discovered a yellow sticky note. There were seven names written on the paper, with an arrow pointing to some of the Hebrew print in the book.

  He turned the book toward Menachem and Rivka. “What does it say in the section the arrow is pointing to?”

  Menachem leaned forward and squinted through his thick glasses. “Ah, this chapter of the Bible would be what you call Proverbs. This section says, ‘A false witness shall not be unpunished, and he that speaks lies shall not escape.’”

  Rivka smiled. “That would be just like Mendel. He’d find a passage with layers of meaning to him.”

  Levi drummed his fingers on the desk. He w
asn’t sure what to make of all this. But the least he could do was track down whoever had given the testimonial and learn about the truth of the affair.

  He removed the sticky note from the book and noticed that it had more writing on the back, in Hebrew. He showed it to Rivka. “What does this say?”

  She leaned forward, and her face grew pale. “It says, ‘It’s the Nazis.’”

  Chapter Four

  ***THIS IS A PRE-ORDER COPY – A FINAL COPY WILL BE UPLOADED SOON***“If all you drink is seltzer, how am I supposed to seduce you into seeing reason?”

  Levi took another sip of his seltzer and stared across the table at the attractive thirty-something Asian woman. They were sitting in Gerard’s, his favorite hole-in-the-wall bar in New York’s Little Italy. A few customers chatted amiably at the bar, and the smell of garlic and marinara wafted in from the kitchen.

  “Just because you think you’re right doesn’t mean I’m going to agree,” he replied. “I’m not this angel you think I am.”

  Lucy Chen was nursing a scotch and soda. She leaned forward and shook her head. “I never called you an angel,” she said with her slight Russian accent. “I just know you. You’re willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done, but you’re picky about the kind of jobs you’ll take on. Too picky.” She motioned discreetly toward two beefy men digging into heaping portions of pasta. “You’re loyal to your family, I get that. I admire it. But I want you and I to work together on this. We can do so much good in this crappy world if we cooperate. I need a partner in this.”

  They’d been having this debate for over a month. Lucy wanted Levi to go into “business” with her, but he had other obligations. Besides, he wasn’t sure what to make of her. The smoldering behind those dark brown eyes was… intense. In fact, everything about her was dialed up to eleven. The widow of a Chinese gang leader, she was the epitome of the dragon lady stereotype. And through a strange twist of fate, Levi had managed to get himself entangled with her.